RoA:Smoke & Mirrors
by RhiannonAmaris
Summary: In 1990 a young man calls forth a demon and Angel and John constantine are left to pick up the pieces. [Angel crossover]
1. prolouge

**DISCLAIMER:**Hellblazer and all related concepts belong to DC. Angel and all related concepts belong to Joss Whedon.  
**NOTES:**Isabel/Israel is mine, mine, mine and no one else can use her unless they ask nicely. Angel doesn't actually end up in this one, but he will be in part 1.  
**FEEDBACK:**Send lots and lots to Pretty please with brimstone on top?

"There's no such a thing as a happy ending. If you think otherwise you're just kidding yourself. 'Happily ever after' usually lasts about two days, tops. No heroes, either. People'll call practically anyone a hero. Hell, I've been called one. If that doesn't prove my point, I don't know what does. Superman? Spider-Man? They all have their motives. Trust me. I know about this kind of thing. And bad guys? They win all the time. Almost always." The blonde young woman paused and drank some of her whiskey. One of the objects of her lecture said something. "Magic? Sure it adds a new variable into the equation. But it depends on whose using it, to some extent. And you've got to realize that no matter how real it is, the basis is still just--"

SMOKE AND MIRRORS-Prologue a rules of arcania story  
by RhiannonAmaris 

September 1990

The house looked as if it was perfect. It was pale yellow with matching green trim, surrounded by a white picket fence. It was suburbia distilled, like so many others around it. And, like so many others, the gentile facade masked something more sinister.

A group of teenagers mingled in an overly decorated rec room. A blond young man took his black haired friend aside. "Harry, this is stupid, dude," he said in a low voice.

"Yeah, but it scares the chicks..."

"And we comfort them... You rock man. We are so getting laid tonight!"

"Damn straight, Paul, damn straight." Harry straightened his T-shirt a bit and made a production of checking the designs drawn onto the hardwood floor. 'If these stain mom's gonna kill me.'

At his signal they gathered, each taking a post at a juncture in the design. Harry nodded and they all lit black candles. He smirked to himself. Most guys would set up something out of bad B movie, but not him. He had gone through the old book very carefully. He had found it in his great-uncle's attic that summer when his parents had roped him into cleaning it when the old bastard had died. If this didn't work, no big. Like Paul had said, the girls would be a bit freaked and they could probably be talked into spreading. But on the off chance it did work... He'd be a fucking god.

He turned to a page near the back of the book and began to read from it in a clear, strong voice. The first part of the spell was in Latin, but then it switched to English. "Atronon, dark one, I call thee. Atronon, keeper of the Dark Flower, I call thee."

The electricity in half the block went out. The only light to be seen was from thirteen guttering candles. The seven girls made various noises of dismay, music to his ears. Next to him Paul cackled. "This is so gonna get us laid, man. You'd think this bullshit was gonna work."

"Atronon, the manipulator, I call thee." The room's French windows flew open; a gust of wind blew out the candles as lightning struck a house down the street. The girl seated to his left was about to abandon her place and cling to him, but froze at the glare Harry sent at her. "Atronon, the defiler, I beseech thee, appear!" The design began to glow with unholy light. The center of it was almost blinding.

"What the fuck..." Paul said dully.

'HE is going to be the first one to die.' Something that smelled of sulfur began to rise out of the center. One of the girls, a blonde cheerleader named Cheri, fainted. "Atronon, son of Wolfram, I bind thee here!"

The huge, black scaled, vaguely human shaped creature fanned out a pair of black, bat-like wings and then settled them around his shoulders. "It would seem," it said in a voice that sounded like rocks grinding together, "that you have some explaining to do, little mage."

Harry grinned from ear to ear. "It's pretty simple actually. I want a deal." The rest of the teens had long since broken the circle and now they began to run for the door. It wouldn't open. Harry had the only key in his pocket. He walked over to the windows and shut and locked them. "This is the ritual of Fallon. We've got a servant that would be me; five sacrifices that would be those asses: and seven slaves."

Atronon stepped out of the circle and pinned a red-haired girl -- Anne, Harry thought her name was -- against the wall. He forced her chin up with a claw talon. "Which would be these lovely things. I shall probably accept. Now what is it exactly you want?" He was obviously distracted.

"Oh, not much." He walked over to where Cheri lay sprawled on the floor and slipped a hand inside her thin sweater. "Not much."

Soon after that things had truly gone mad. The boys finally realized that there was no way in hell the door was going to budge, and stopped trying to batter it down. Paul tried to rush Harry, who was... occupied with Cheri. He wasn't nearly as distracted as the other young man thought. He grabbed the dagger he had kept close at hand. Paul nearly ran onto it. Harry smiled as life seeped out of his dull blue eyes.

"Looks like I'm a fortune teller," Harry murmured. "So it begins." Paul was the only one he killed himself. The rest Atronon dispatched. It was done too slowly to be efficient, but too precisely to be anything else. Harry watched for a few minutes before growing bored. "My lord?" The demon paused in the slaughter for a moment and turned his head in his servant's direction. "May I..." He made a gesture in the direction of the girls.

"Yes, yes. By all means. But save the redhead for me."

"As you wish."

He started with the still unconscious Cheri. Not long after, she came to. She tried to fight him off for a few minutes before she fainted. Harry slapped her until she woke up. Her struggles began anew and then slowed to a stop. Atronon's influence and the power of his servant came to the forefront and soon she was begging him to do as he wished with her, all the while her eyes screamed in pain and horror. It was the same with all the others.

The next morning Harry awoke to the caresses of a trio of beautiful girls. Anne, Sandra, and Miranda. Sandy and Mandy were brunettes and identical twins. He looked at their willing bodies and screaming eyes and smiled. "You two."

"Yes, my lord." They spoke as one.

He pointed to the floor. "I want to watch you two together. Now."

They went down slowly, trying to resist the power behind his command and failing. He leaned against a wall and Anne knelt in front of him. Atronon had broken her in so well that she needed no order.

"You're in hell, you know." The stone-like voice came from across the room. Harry tore his eyes away from the appealing and appalling sight in front of him. Atronon crouched over a body, picking the meat from it, while his tail snaked across a raven haired girl. The corpse was unrecognizable. A quick glance told him that they all were, except Paul's.

His eyes went back to the twins with rapt attention and he grabbed onto Anne's hair. "If this is hell, who needs heaven, my lo-" All words were forgotten as the twins began to cry out.

Atronon did something to what was left of the corpses.

"What's this then, lord?" Harry examined the sacrifices -- they were as whole as they had been before all this had began.

"These are imps. Very minor ones, but I'm sure they can manage to impersonate teenaged boys well enough."

"Sir?" Harry was even more puzzled now.

The demon sighed. It sounded more like a growl. "It would be noticed if they disappeared. Or if their bodies were found here."

The boy straightened and began to open his mouth. Atronon raised a finger. "And that wouldn't suit either of us. This--" he waved his arm around the room, "is just a start. And you being in jail would make luring in new blood in a bit hard. If you don't mess up, we'll corrupt half of this town before anyone notices a thing. And when this hunting ground has thinned, we'll move on to the next. You'll bring in new slaves, and the slaves will bring the sacrifices in by their balls. It's quite simple."

"Of course, my lord."

December 1990

John Constantine ignored the come-ons of a teenaged prostitute and walked into a small diner in Gotham just to get out of the wind and snow. It was weeks like this one that made him wonder why he'd gotten into magic in the first place. He sat at the counter and ordered a cup of coffee. Oh well, it was over -- no point in dwelling on it. This time next week he'd be taking Jane (Arcania, a small part of his mind yelled stubbornly) to Liverpool to visit the family for Christmas. He was still surprised that Fionia was letting him. Then again Buckingham was probably all too happy not to have his wife's child by John out of his house, for however short a time.

The waitress brought him his cuppa and shook her head at something on the small black and white TV on the counter. "That's just horrible. I can't believe no one noticed that all those poor children were in some kind of cult."

John raised an eyebrow at the peroxide blonde. "What's that then, luv?"

"You haven't heard? You're English though, so I guess you wouldn't have. In LA about thirty boys went and killed themselves, and about fifty girls are missing. Just terrible, don't you think?" She batted tarantula-like lashes at him.

"Awful." On the TV an attractive but less than articulate anchor woman was talking about one of the missing girls, some hotshot lawyer's daughter. "The authorities are saying that the missing girl that stands out the most is Isabel Hart, oldest daughter of LA attorney, Adam Hart." He knew that he knew that name, but he couldn't place it for the life of him. "While all of the other victims attended the same public high school, Isabel attended an exclusive private academy..." He stopped listening and looked at the picture on the telly. Isabel was a pretty girl of sixteen or so, with light brown hair and brown eyes. Eyes that looked like the girl had been through a war zone, or something worse. Eyes that he had seen very recently.

He gulped down the rest of the rather foul brew and left a dollar and a half on the counter. Constantine turned up his collar and went out to brave the cold again. The young whore was still leaned up against a street light, shivering in her too short skirt and light shirt and jacket. Obviously dyed black hair fell over her brown, war zone eyes. "Hullo, Isabel." Her head snapped up and she looked like she was going to do a runner. "Your dad didn't send me, girl."

"Who's fuckin' Isabel, and why would her dad send anybody after her?" Only her voice betrayed her -- far too educated for what she was doing, the accent Californian.

"Don't play with me, gel. I'm on your side."

"I'm sure. Who the hell are you?"

"Don't fuck around, kid. I just want t' talk to you. Let's just go into the diner an' get out of the cold an' I'll buy you something to eat."

A few minutes later they were in a booth and Israel, as she had told him to call her, was devouring a hamburger like she hadn't seen food in a week. Halfway through it, she looked up at him. "So who the fuck are you, anyway?"

"John Constantine."

Her eyes went wide. "Wow. Really? My dad's scared of you. His _partner_ is scared of you."

That brought a wolfish grin to his face. "Thanks. What do you know about what went down in LA?"

She washed down a wad of fries with a gulp of coffee. "Something to do with some demon. I noticed and took the opportunity to make good my escape. Figured it would make it a bit harder to figure out what happened to me." She shrugged. "Sorry, 'mate'."

He could tell that she was telling the truth, but was holding back. "That all?"

"Yeah... Well, this is just a theory, right?" She said it cautiously, as if afraid. He just nodded. "I think the guys were dead for a while before everything went down in the end. I ran into some of them and I'm pretty sure they were some kind of demons. Not the girls, though. They just seemed brainwashed, but like they knew it. I think I can tell the difference between demon and human evil, you know."

"I should think so, Iza. I'm sure you've seen enough of both. I don't think disappearing with everyone else is gonna put off your dad, though."

It was her turn to grin now. "He thinks I'm stupid. Does rituals around me and leaves grimoires lying around. I'm a quick study. And do you really think I'd actually sell myself? I just put the whammy on the johns and take the cash."

"And if the whammy doesn't work?"

"Then it's nothing that hasn't been done to me before." Her eyes had become lighter throughout the conversation, but now they were war scarred again.

"Doesn't make it right, though. Thanks for telling me what you know. Take care, Iza." He sighed as he got up. There went the hols with Arcania, Cheryl and Gemma.

"Since when do you go around playing at being Batman, Constantine?" The words hit his back as he paid and came back with the tip.

He grinned at her and handed her a fifty. "You're right. Merry Christmas, Iza. Take care of yourself, gel." The world could bloody well take care of itself.

She smiled wryly. "I'm an atheist, but thanks."

END OF PROLOGUE 


	2. part 1

the Rules of Arcania-Smoke and Mirrors Part 1

**DISCLAIMER:**Angel, Cordelia and Wesley belong to Joss Whedon, as does the demon karaoke bar. Constantine and the rest of the Trenchcoat Brigade belong to DC Comics. The song "The Future" belongs to Leonard Coen. No infringement is intended towards anyone. Israel, Arcania, and the demons are mine, please don't use them without asking me about it first.   
**Notes:**In Rules of Arcania (all of my fics) continuity this happens before Hey Jupiter and Shadowlife and after Talkin' 'Bout My Generation (X), Ghosts Of A Forsaken Past and, obviously, In The Beginning.   
**FEEDBACK:**Pleassssse! Lot's and lots and lots. E-mail me at [RhiannonAZ@aol.com][1] or [rhiannonamaris@yahoo.com][2]. 

"And when they said   
Repent (repent)   
Repent (repent)   
Repent (repent)   
Repent---- (repent----)   
I wondered what they meant."   
-The Future, Leonard Coen 

# **Smoke & Mirrors Part I   
by RhiannonAmaris**

July 1995   
Harold watched his master pace the floor of their lair. "My lord?" 

"So you've found nothing then. Nothing at all." Atronon growled. Harold jumped back, reminded as he hadn't been in ages of how dangerous his situation was. 

"No, my lord. There's been nothing since May. It's as if she's ceased to exist. But I don't see why you're so worried now. Last time she did a runner you acted like it was routine. She runs and you bring her back after awhile. She'll turn up." 

"You fool. If she ever becomes anything but passive the Dark Flower will shake Hell to it's foundation. She is not, as you seem to think, a harmless damned mortal mad-woman. She's the offspring of a demon and a goddess, you fool. We cannot allow to be in a position to become a threat. And she's never disappeared before. Even if it took a while to catch her, we have always known exactly where she is up until this point, and had hell hounds at her heels. This is quite different." 

"I'm glad you're aware of your situation. And very disappointed that you haven't done anything about it. To guard the Dark Flower was an important position, and it was not a difficult one. I have been too lenient with you. I shall not make the same mistake again." Atronon was dwarfed by the demon that stood before them now. "I sicken of the sight of you. Go, toil in the deepest fires of Hades." There was rumbling of the earth and screams and wails filled the air as Atronon was banished. Harry fell face first to the floor. 

The other demon then turned his attention to him. "Your groveling won't save you, human. Your master's power is gone, you are naught but an insect." 

A second voice broke in, a woman's breathy, honeyed. "Wait." One a phone sex operator would have killed for. The moment he heard it his impending death and damnation were forgotten. 

"Do not overstep your bounds Taramona. The fact that I have made you the Keeper in your brother's stead does not mean I will allow you to appose me in any way." 

"I understand perfectly, great on. I just wanted to say that I might find this one useful. I always hate to waste resources. And it would be easy enough to train him properly, despite my brother's influence. If you see it fit." 

Bespelled by the voice he slowly looked up. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen stood looking up at the demon. She had long blonde hair and was nude except for a green mist that clung to her. 

"And if I do not?" 

She shrugged, her appearance shifting as she did so, becoming a small raven haired Oriental woman. This was equally exquisite as the last, if not more so. "As it is your will." 

"You may have him. Do not fail me." He drew her to him with his tail and it disappeared in the mist between her legs. 

She threw back her head and parted her lips as she shifted into a pale skinned, green eyed girl with copper hair. "Never... Never me... Father." 

He disappeared in smoke and brimstone and she collapsed into a heap. Harold tried to get up, but his legs refused to obey him. He crawled towards her. 

She looked up slowly, still taking ragged breathes. Inwardly he cursed the mist that obscured the view. Her shifting eyes caught his and she began to laugh. "You don't get everything you want, mortal." Her appearance shifted rapidly and then stopped. Her skin was purplish brown, and her hair lips and eyes were blood red. Wings sprouted from her back and a tail from the small of it. She was more beautiful than ever, but at the same time repelling. "And if you do you might very well wish that you hadn't. Still like what you see?" 

*** 

"So what's the deal this time around?" The remark was followed by the flare of a Zippo lighting a cigarette. The mocking tone of voice was ignored by the other three. They had worked with him enough times to know that he seldom spoke without it, at least not in this kind of situation. In truth it was not so much ignored as accepted, as was the edge of anger that was once ever present in E's voice or the Stranger being what he claimed to so completely. Magic and crises made for strange enough bed-fellows on their own, but put the two together... 

"I am not entirely certain.", the Phantom Stranger admitted. That was more than enough to make John take notice. 

"You don't know. You called us all here an' you don't know what's happening. Lovely." He ran his hand through his hair. "I'm assuming that you know the where if not the why then? Be sort of pointless otherwise, innit?" 

The stranger nodded and headed towards the door. E and Occult followed him and after a moment Constantine did likewise with a shrug. They stepped out into glaring filtered sunlight. 

"Just fucking marvelous. I bloody hate LA" 

It wasn't that much of a problem to walk, which was unusual for Los Angeles. John raised an eyebrow at where they ended up. It was supposedly a high school-- a large, spacious and visually pleasing one. About as far as you could get from the dark, cramped and slightly damp monstrosity he had attended ages ago back in Liverpool. But his dim memories of that seemingly living hell were a lot more real. This place gave the impression of being a set for one of those teen flicks where the faculty was an afterthought and only there to be made fun of anyway. 

Completely and utterly unreal. "Please don't tell me that we're here to look into a bunch of little twats listenin' to Black Sabbath backwards an' pretending t' be Satanists." Even as he spoke it he that it wasn't the case. The place reeked of combined Sex and Blood Magicks. With the pretentious k tacked on the end and all. And something even darker still. 

It didn't take long to spot the... things. They looked and acted human, but if they were John would give up smoking. 

"We need a closer look." Said Occult. "Perhaps I should--" 

"Oh God no. I'll do it." John moaned, knowing full well that subterfuge really wasn't any of the others' real forte. 

"How?" Occult was having as hard a time seeing John blend in as Constantine was with the good doctor. 

"Simple. This is a high class type private school, right? I'm a rich businessman that just moved here from London," John grinned at the disbelief on the others' faces and changed his voice, Scouse accent becoming plummy Queen's English, "And I'm looking for a suitable establishment for my dear, brilliant daughter to attend. I'll be able to see anything I want." He took a last drag on his fag and stubbed it out. "Like I said, simple." 

*** 

The headmaster was all too happy to help 'Mr. Grey', convinced he had almost forgotten this all important meeting. At a gentle suggestion his mind replaced the worn, crumpled pants, shirt, tie and trench with a immaculate suit, Armani perhaps. Most of the students and faculty saw something similar. He made a note of those that didn't-- those that he could spot anyway. A young female teacher, who had blinked and stared for a moment before shrugging and looking away. They had gone past her again a bit later and she had flashed him a quick, quiet smile. A boy of fifteen or so that looked uncomfortable as hell in the tie and blazer uniform grinned and began to cackle madly. In the library a young woman stared at him and began to whistle 'Venus of the Hardsell'. He was rather certain that she wasn't human. That was the most disturbing thing he saw for a bit. 

Then he began to see them, from the corner of his eye at first. It would have been easy to mistake them as simply being stupid and shallow, typical spoiled rich kids. His own lower class biases certainly didn't help him spot anything wrong with the picture. At the same time wasn't very hard to figure out that there wouldn't be that many lads that were completely dim. The simple conclusion was that the reason that they seemed to be not entirely there was because they weren't-- They were simply empty shell. Not all of them or anywhere near most, but quite a few. And, as far as John could tell, they all were in the 'in' crowd, the schools self-declared top dogs. The girls, on the other hand, were quite a different story. Glassy eyed and beautiful, they were there but not in control. 

He couldn't help but think of the two young outcasts, especially the punk fan with what seemed to be a glamour. It wouldn't be the first time that the pariahs lashed out at those they blamed, not entirely incorrectly, for their ostracization. Especially if they knew who he was. Too many of his 'fans' were twits that messed with things beyond their control-- And thought that Constantine sounded cooler than Crowley. Something was nagging at him, the feeling that this was all familiar... Ten years ago, of course. The signs were all the same-- No, not exactly. Even if they were, last time he checked Atronon was still on the punishment list. But something about all this still reminded him of something Iza had... 

Iza. Of course. This was the school she had gone to. There wasn't necessarily any connection, but he hadn't made it this far by believing in coincidences. 

All the same, she didn't seem like the type that would reap havoc on people in revenge for things they had nothing to do with. But he had only known her for an hour and that ten years ago. Who knew how the kid had turned out. 

"I'm positive that I've heard of the Academy somewhere else, but I can't think of where to save my life at the moment." Now just wait for the ball to drop... 

"I... I don't have any..." He was spared the headmaster's evasions by the young English teacher coming by again. 

"That probably would have been when poor Isabelle disappeared." There was a small amount of guilt in her voice. "That would have been ten years ago, when all of those horrible things happened to those kids in the cult. I was in the same class as she was and... I still feel as if I should have noticed something. That if I had seen the signs she would still be alive. In a way that's why I became a teacher." The blonde woman in her mid-twenties seemed straight forward enough. It was a pity that the self-declared watchdog was missing so many signs this time around too. 

John took his leave, turning everything over in his mind. 

*** 

John walked over to the others after going towards the entrance enough that they'd think that he'd left. "What did you learn?" 

"Not all that much. It looks like Atronon is involved, but he's not. Someone's trying to lead us in circles." He lit a fag and paused for a moment. "There are two types of oddness in there. Ya've minor imps acting like teenaged boys--It's probably pretty safe to assume that the originals are dead. Then you've got gels, all of them lookers, that are basically zombies. Atronon's MO as they say on the telly, but he's out of the picture." He began to say something else, but stopped mid-word, looking past the others shoulders. 

Past the fence, on a hill and apparently making no effort to hide a man in a black trenchcoat and a woman in a red one were arguing heatedly. A brunette in a stylish jacket was looking down at them looking up and trying to get her companions attention-- And failing miserably. 

*** 

Cordelia Chase thumbed through the pages of Variety, only half interested. While she still wanted to be a star, the soap operaish-ness of Hollywood had lost it's charm. It was, well... mundane. When your day job was doing research, answering phones and having head-splitting visions/headaches for a souled vampire private eye, the daily who's sleeping with who, who's ego is clashing with who seemed kind of boring. 

This was defiantly better than waiting tables until her inevitable big break came. Except for the her life being in danger on a semi-regular basis part. Come to think of it waitressing at one of the nicer places probably paid better too, with tips and all. As she considered that it would be a good way to meet cute non-poor guys and possibly casting agents, the vision hit her. 

This one was worse than most. There was a glimpse of something winged, horrible, and very male. Beautiful girls fawning over it, screaming internally. Young men being killed, sometimes followed by something that looked exactly like them, but wasn't. 

Then it was over and Angel, Wesley and the young woman who had just started to rent a room at the hotel were standing over her. Cordelia couldn't quite understand why Angel was letting her stay here. They couldn't be that hard up for cash, could they? 

"What did you see?" Angel asked urgently. Both Cordelia and Wesley gave him a sharp look, eyes darting to the brown haired tenant, Jerusalem or something. 

She laughed. "Christ, girl. I work at a place where mauled versions of usually bad to begin with pop songs are used as an oracular device. Spit it out before you forget it." 

When the vampire nodded she complied. "It was some sort of campus. It looked kind of like a college, but everyone was too young. The demon was big, red-black, horns, wings-- the whole deal. Obviously male in a very not good way. All these women-- No, girls, mid-teens all of them attractive, were all over it, but... Their eyes... They don't have any control over it, but they're aware of what's happening. Young men being killed and replaced by... What do you call them? Evil twin type things." 

"Dopplegangers?" The woman, Israel-- that was her name-- supplied, frowning deeply. 

"That's it." Cordelia went through her purse until she found a bottle of heavy duty aspirin. "It's kind of weird, because it seemed urgent, but it also seemed like it's been going on for awhile. Like it stopped and just started up again recently." 

Israel, who had been perching on the arm of a couch, sprang up and began to pace. No one really noticed, they had gotten down to the business of figuring out where exactly they needed to be. 

None of them noticed when she left either. The three of them had finally gotten a feel for the location when she returned. Something hit the floor with a soft thud and they turned their heads. Israel stood with a large bag at her feet, red spilling off of her arm and was wearing a shoulder holster. 

The gun was over a Combat Rock T-shirt that looked worn enough to be vintage and had safety pins holding it together in a couple places, along with tight, torn, black jeans and the flood of scarlet was a blood red leather trenchcoat. Her short hair had been spiked a bit. She wore studded black leather around her neck and right wrist. Ball chains covered her left arm from her wrist to most of the way up her forearm. There was a bulge in her right leg that suggested that a knife or a second gun was stuck in the top of her combat boot. Surprisingly none of her make-up was black-- brown lipstick, purple eye-shadow and nothing else. 

Angel raised an eyebrow, Wesley cleared his throat and Cordelia leaned back. "The whole neo-punk thing is so three years ago." 

Israel snorted. "Bite me Chase. I hope you don't mind me tagging along. And if you do, that's too fucking bad because I'm coming anyway." 

Angel turned and their eyes meet. After a long moment he looked away and shrugged. "Fine. Don't try anything stupid though." 

"Excuse me-- We're letting her come along because...? Sure she knows all about all this kind of stuff, but she's a waitress. At a karaoke bar no less." Cordelia stopped to draw a breath. 

A strangled cry came from Israel and Angel stared blankly at her for a moment. "She's not a waitress Cordy." 

"She's not?" She turned, hands on her hips. "what do you do then?" 

"I'm a bouncer you little airhead. For the moment at the least." Jennings slipped into her trench and glared at the secretary. "The only one there that's human and the one that deals with the more difficult problems. I was in the middle of this kinda stuff when you were still playing with your Barbies and he was slinking around eating rats in Anne Riceish self-hatred. I can deal with this a lot better than you can." She adjusted her collar and began to stride towards the door. "By the way you should look into a mass disappearance and mutilation in the spring of Ninety. It's quite likely there's a connection." 

"Wes, stay here and research. Cordelia, let's go." They began to follow Israel. 

"But shouldn't I go with? Cordelia can--", Wesley began to protest. 

"She's pin-pointing the location. You're researching. Got it?" 

The punkish looking twenty something glanced at the younger woman and snorted. "Men." 

Cordelia rolled her eyes in agreement. "Tell me about it. So you're the brains then? I mean the rest of the bouncers I've seen don't seem like the brightest bulbs on the Christmas tree." 

"They're not that bad. None of are Einstein or anything-- 'cept Liam but that's another story-- but they aren't slow either. I'm there to take care of the non-physical stuff mainly." 

"Huh... Oh! You're a witch." 

"Like hell I am. 'Witches' are little wannabe Satanists and wiccans who are only into it because they think it gives them an excuse to dress up like Stevie Nicks for the most part. I am a magus." 

"Okay... So, how'd you end up a bouncer?" 

"I'm only doing this for a bit. As a favor. And it's a long story..." 

*** 

Cordelia was concentrating on her surroundings, so she didn't notice when Iza began to tense. By the time she triumphantly declared, "This is it.", the bouncer was as taunt as a bow string. 

"Fuck." Jennings murmured under her breath. 

"What's wrong?" Angel inquired, while 'Delia looked at her askew. 

"Nothing. Something about this place brings back bad memories is all. Nothing related, just a general sense of how much my life used to suck is all." The young seer accepted her words without a second thought, but the vampire continued to regard her. "I said it's nothing, piss off already." She nearly jumped out of the convertible. 

The three of them strode towards the manicured lawn, looking for a way to get inside inconspicuously. They were along the side wall when Angel stiffened. He stared into the distance, arms held out and slightly back, signaling them not to move. 

"What's up?" Israel asked in a low voice. 

"There." The vampire pointed it out to her. 

The young mage quickly found what he meant, but it took Cordelia a few more moments. Jennings whistled softly, clearly impressed. 

"Three oldish guys in bad coats. Explain why this is so amazing, please." 

Iza looked down at the trio with respect, fear and a touch of envy in her eyes. "Simple kiddo. That's the Magi Guild, minus one." A fourth figure joined them from the direction of the main school building. "Scratch that. That's the whole Trenchcoat Brigade." 

"You know these people?" Cordelia inquired suspiciously. 

"Of. I know of them. Except Conjob. I met him once, years ago. I owe him." She was quiet for a moment and then continued without prompting. "The guy in the hat is the Phantom Stranger. I don't know much about him other than he's supposed to be amazingly powerful. Despite all the rumors I don't think anyone does. The one in the white trench and shades is Mr. E. He can time-walk and has a tendency to be a bit on the violent side. Oh, and he's blind. The black coat is Doctor Richard Occult. I haven't heard much about him except that he's supposedly an expert on Faerie. Or rather that his alter-ego is." She chuckled. "I've heard it two ways. The first and slightly more likely is that he has a split personality and the second one is a woman." She smiled once more and then grew more serious. "The second, the one I believe, is that Rose is an entirely separate entity and only one of can manifest at once." 

"And that would make the blonde guy Conjob." 

Angel frowned. "That name sounds familiar for some reason." 

"And considering how long you've been around it'll sound even more so. Or the family will at least. That's the Magus. The Bastard himself." Her tone had changed, becoming slightly disrespectful, but not meaning anything by it. Like making fun of a friend-- Alright if it was okay with them and not meant to be hateful, but God help someone outside of your circle that tried it. "He can most likely handle anything you can throw at him, but more likely he'll already be ten steps ahead of you, so you'd better not try. That my friend is John fucking Constantine." 

Angel turned and stared at her. "Constantine. As in THE Constantines." His voice was little more than a growl. "These aren't the good guys then." 

"Actually the rest of them are sterling. Except E, and that's just because he's a bit of a zealot. And not quite all there from what I've heard." She put her bag down and looked him in the eye. "In all honesty I'd be the last person to pass judgment on John even with his family and all. I'd really like to know where you get off casting the first stone." 

"Excuse me, could someone please tell me what's going on?" Not having a clue as to what the conversation was about wasn't something Cordelia was all that fond of. 

"The Constantines are probably the most notorious family in history in arcane circles. Some of them would have given the Master a run for his money." 

"Or you for that matter Angelus." Israel snapped. "And what he's leaving out is that the ones that get involved in magic aren't all evil. Most of them have been right bastards, but Kon-Stan-Tine is the exceptions, not the rule." 

"Not from what I've heard. And name one other that wasn't evil. Or are you going to claim Dark Conrad was misunderstood?" 

"Fuck no. I did hear that Johanna got you but good back in the day though." 

"That wasn't exactly for altruistic reasons." 

"I never said that it--" 

"Uh, guys--" 

They spoke in unison. "Not now Cordelia." 

The argument grew more heated, including mentions of Merlin, Newcastle in '77, New York in '89, a name that Cordelia vaguely remembered as belonging to a poet from senior English class, pirates, sex drugs and rock and roll. 

"Excuse me!" 

*** 

John began to walk up the hill and the others followed. In a couple of moments they had reached the fence and stood only a few feet from the trio. As they got within earshot he had been surprised to hear them arguing about him. The girl in the trench looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place her. She wasn't an ex, he would have remembered her in that case-- And it was bloody unlikely she would have been defending him. 

The younger woman continued to try to make the other two shut up, but wasn't having much more luck. "Angel, Israel, shut up for God's sake. Iza your friend or whatever can defend himself!" 

That got their attention. And clued him into where he knew her from and who the 'man' was. They both whipped around and faced the fence. 

"Iza, fancy meeting you here. I was just talking to an old mate of yours. I'm sure she'd be happy if you dropped in at the old alma mater." He dropped his fag and ground it underfoot. "Angelus. Heard a lot about you. You'll have to excuse me if I'm not all sweetness and light, even with Ripper vouching for you. Like I said, I've heard a lot about you." 

E went dead still and somehow gave the impression he was staring at Angel. "Abomination." He said in a low voice. Not meek quiet though, but the kind of quiet that upon hearing you made sure your back was to the wall and everyone was where you could see them. 

Angel's eyes narrowed, but he ignored it. He got worse from both sides on a regular basis. "Constantine." It took effort not to spit the name out. "I see you're keeping up family traditions." His voice was so cold that it could have been used as an alternative to air conditioning. 

"One way of seeing it." He gave Cordelia a once over. "Hullo. And you would be?" 

"Not exactly charmed." The reply came without thought. Despite the fact he was Giles' age and English something about him reminded her of Doyle, just a tiny bit. "Cordelia Chase." 

Iza rolled her eyes. "I'm assuming we're all here for the same reason." 

That depends. As far as I can tell you've got about three reasons why you could be here. An' I doubt you've here to reminisce about old times. The second seems slightly unlikely given current reputation of present company. So for the moment, yeah, I'll assume we're on the same side." 

"Out of curiosity, any reason you're suspicious of me other than it's my old school and apparently the same MO?" 

"Isn't that enough? I only have your word that you weren't involved the first time around and coincidences rarely are in this business. You seemed like a decent kid, but I'm not infallible. Besides a person can change a lot in ten years." 

"Okay, if I were you I'd suspect me too. Thing is besides having my boss, Gunn's lot or the guys down at Noonan's vouch for me there's not much I can do to prove I'm trustworthy. Well, trustworthy isn't exactly the word. I can't think of any mages that want to be trustworthy, besides annoying twits like Blood." 

"Too true. And those three of course. Wouldn't trust E as far as I could throw him though." He glanced at the Stranger and Occult. 

"That would make two, unless you've got an invisible friend." Cordelia broke in. "And what's up with all this talk about Iza and this place?" 

After a long pause Israel answered. "I went to school here. Ten years ago. I'd rather not talk about it just at the moment. I wanted to help with this, because... Well for a lot of reasons really. And I don't want to talk about them either right now. I know that I'll have to later. I've known that since I told tweed boy to start his research, since you had your vision. Hell, since I came back to LA. But not right now." 

Cordelia blinked, taken aback. "I just meant that you don't seem like the type that would have gone someplace like this. Most of the grads probably went on to Ivy League and stuff and you're a bouncer." 

"I doubt the majority of those that did could have without their parents money to buy their way in. Besides," she said with a wry grin, "I never said that I graduated." 

"May I suggest we go some where else to continue this discussion." Occult spoke for the first time since they had come upon the other group. 

"We can go back to the hotel." Angel said cautiously. "I'll give you directions..." 

"We don't have a car." John interrupted, rolling his eyes. 

"We could maybe fit everybody into Angel's car if we really squish together..." Cordelia ventured doubtfully. "And if at least one person sat on top of someone else." 

John leered at the two young women. Cordelia rolled her eyes and Iza laughed and gave him a two fingered salute. He grinned back at them. "Seriously though, I wouldn't mind a lift. At least a couple of us could manage without though." 

E's frown got deeper and deeper. The Phantom Stranger glanced at him covertly. "E and I shall make our own way." 

"That works. See you there." John cut him off before he could continue. The two men walked away and seemed to disappear after a few steps. 

"Well, that was polite." Angel said dryly. 

"If I had let him go on he'd have said somethin' 'terribly mysterious' Ever since 'Cania dragged me to see 'Mystery Men' I burst out laughing if I have to listen to him for too long." He paused. "Well that's always been true. It's just that the length of time is a lot shorter now." 

They walked back up the hill, John and Cordelia deep in a conversation about how some people tended to take themselves too seriously. Unsurprisingly Cordelia was doing most of the talking. "I mean it's so annoying sometimes. Angel is, like, Mr. Brooding almost always. I mean the whole curse thing sucks, but it wouldn't kill him to lighten up every now and then." 

"But it might you." John said lightly. 

"I'm still right here you know." The vampire said in a tone of long suffering. "It used to be considered impolite to say things like this in front of whoever you were talking about." 

"Hey, if you can't say something to somebody's face..." Israel chirped. Constantine and Cordy laughed out that and Angel chuckled. Even Occult broke a smile. 

"I know. I always wondered about the whole tact thing. If you're going to say something, say it, unless they'll kill you, of course." 

"Of course. An' sometimes even then." 

"Maybe you could answer something for me. What the heck is up British people? You've got to be the first one I've met that isn't all tweedy. Unless you count Giles during that whole band candy incident." 

"Band candy?" Iza and John inquired in unison. 

Ethan Rayne put a curse on high school fund-raising chocolate. It caused adults to act like teenagers." Angel explained. 

"And Giles and Buffy's mom both had like a whole box each. It was horrible. My mom stretched out tons of my clothes." 

"I don't believe it. I mean it sounds like somethin' the wanker would do..." The English magus shook his head in silent amusement. "Ethan always was scared bloody stiff of Ripper. The whole reason he likes messing with Giles now is that he knows that he won't react like he would have in the old days. I know that he's basically an idiot, but doing something that would piss him off and revert him back to pre-Watcher days is bloody stupid, even for Rayne." 

"You know Giles?" Cordelia asked, clearly taken a bit aback. 

"I know everybody." There was something almost menacing in the way he spoke. 

*** 

Iza ended up in back with Constantine and Occult. The ride back was rather uneventful, though some what awkward. When they got back to the hotel only Cordelia was surprised to see E and the Stranger at the door. 

"How the heck did they beat us here?" She muttered. 

"Just don't ask, Chase." Jennings replied in a low voice. 

Angel lead them all inside. Almost immediately they heard Wesley's voice. Listen you little retrabate, for the last time, Go Away. I don't know who you are or why you're here, but-- Leave that alone!" 

The vampire frowned and strode towards the office. 

"Sod off already, ya Council of Wankers reject." The answering voice was young, female and had an accent at least as thick as John's. The magus's face went as dark as a storm cloud. 

I the office a blonde teenaged girl sat on top of a desk, examining a small ax. She glanced up when the others rushed into the office. "Wot? Am I late?" 

"No." Constantine said in an arctic voice. "You're grounded." 

Continued in part 3 

   [1]: mailto:RhiannonAZ@aol.com
   [2]: mailto:rhiannonamaris@yahoo.com



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